Face of the Golden Butterfly
by The Ocean Is My Inkwell
Summary: Angry and messed up, Xandri Longblade feels she doesn't fit in anywhere-even among the half-bloods, where she is the only demigod to not have been claimed for the seven years she's been at camp.  Until she meets River, son of Hephaestus... Has Percabeth.
1. Chapter 1: A Curtly Brief Introduction

**A/N: Okaaay, I know you guys are probably sick of all my unfinished stories on "hiatus"...but this story just came, like, **_**POP**_**, into my head, and I **_**had**_** to write it down.**

**Also, just a note-this story switches POVs (points of view) between two characters, Xandri and River. Now River is based on my bf (though not in name), so please excuse him if he seems a little stupid or dorky sometimes... ;-)**

Chapter 1: A (Curtly) Brief Introduction

**Xandri**

I'd never been one to flatter others, much less myself. At the moment, I was staring critically at my seemingly odd reflection in the solitary mirror decorating my desolate corner of the dark brown Hermes cabin. The plain square-cut piece of glass affronted me with a pair of heavily unforgiving eyebrows shadowing fiery amber eyes that glared back at their own oblong face. The strong lines drawn by my jaw matched my black eyebrows and angry long lashes exactly-in fact, it seemed my entire face was written with lines, crossing each other in a wild and untraceable pattern across my olive skin. Perhaps the only thing that really broke the monotony was my silky ebony hair.

I seriously wished more than just sometimes that my hair were wiry and ugly. Then guys wouldn't always be whistling in my direction and pointing meaningfully at me and then toward the Aphrodite cabin. To ward them off, I raked orange dye through my frighteningly black waves and enjoyed myself as I watched both the girls and guys shy away from me.

Hippie, punk, goth, I looked like all and the same. Even if I really was not.

Hippie, because of the black band around my head.

Punk, because of my crazy orange-streaked hair.

Goth, because of my black cargoes, combat boots, and leather gauntlets.

And dangerous rebel, because of that I'll-stare-you-to-ashes look on my face.

Unlike most other demigods, I had a father smart enough to decide to tell me all about the Greek dudes and magic the minute I could talk. He told me about the twelve guys up on Olympus-which, he reminded me, was presently the six hundredth floor of the Empire State Building-and the idea that some of them, male and female, came down to earth every century or so and couldn't help falling in love with mortals and marrying. Of course, their godly duties required their presence and their power elsewhere, and so whether they liked it or not, they were forced to leave their children and their loves behind. End of story.

Well, not exactly. See, I have issues.

Come to think of it, I always do.

My dad, Redford Longblade, was of Cherokee heritage and taught me his language. My mom, when she met him, was fascinated by his Native American background and his love for the outdoors and sports. She herself was athletic and-as he _loved_ to put it-"spunky." (Just remove the _s_, and you have the typical description of me instead.) Unfortunately, she left too soon. Or rather, she disappeared, leaving an annoyingly enigmatic note that sounded part apology, part griping about sibling rivalry, and part panicked note of a kidnapped victim. My dad could only hope she was all right. But she never came back.

I thought she was an irresponsible woman who needed a proper tongue-lashing from her abandoned daughter.

See now why my dad and I fight a lot?

_The_ end of story.

Meet Xandri Longblade, 14-year-old unclaimed half-blood for the past seven years.

X~X~X~X~X

"Hey, Blade!"

"Yeah, what?" I thrust my head out the conveniently open window next to the chair where I'd been sitting and oiling my bow.

Tously-haired Demetri, son of Apollo, popped delightfully within my personal space, huffing and panting. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Chiron wants you straightaway. Big House."

"Straightaway?" I repeated. "What could be so important to the old horse-man? I'm still unclaimed."

"I have no idea," he shouted over his shoulder, to my complete irritation, already jogging backwards back up the hill. He became a speck at the brow and blended into the horizon on the other side.

I sighed and tossed my mostly-oiled bow onto my half-decent bedding on the floor. The Hermes cabin was still as crowded every single year as the last, and had been for as long as I could remember. And my memory went way back.

My best friend Aquilah, a real daughter of Hermes, was idling about on her well-deserved bunk and shooting me a hideously mortifying look.

"Okay," I glared back. "Fine."

She continued to give me that enigmatic smile and nearly moronic look. "Chiron _is_ the boss around here, you know."

"All right!" I threw up my hands. "I said fine, didn't I? I'm going!"

With that, I sprinted out the door away from Aquilah's loony looks and into Chiron's bothersome business.

X~X~X~X~X

When I had burst through the double doors of the quaint little parlor with a grand huff to announce my most august arrival, Chiron looked up my way. His horse-half had been folded into wheelchair form again since I'd last seen him-the Big House just wasn't "big" enough to hold a whole horsey camp director.

"I am glad you finally came, Xandri," spoke Chiron with a reproachful look in his silver eyes.

I cleared my throat discomfitedly. "Huh. Maybe Demetri's fault. I had to sprint all the way."

I knew Chiron knew I had simply taken my time debating with myself before "sprinting all the way." But he said nothing; his undertoned sigh was more than enough of a harangue. Instead, he beckoned to me to come closer.

I obeyed as stiffly as I would walk into a lions' den.

"We have a new camper, Xandri," Chiron resumed, motioning with his head to a previously unnoticed figure seated Indian-style at his side. "This is River Mercado. He arrive just this afternoon." He paused, then lowered his voice. "He has been through more than most. Do be kind to him as you tour him around. Or at least try to be civil."

I eyed the kid warily. His dark brown eyes flicked up at me from beneath a curtain of overgrown black hair. I glowered back.

"Why me?" I burst out. "I'm nobody. I'm not even claimed yet. Besides, I have archery training in, oh, about one minute."

Chiron's gaze slanted up challengingly at me. "I already informed your instructor that you be slightly delayed, but for important reasons. Also, I would like you to take River with you to class to start his training. Annabeth, as you know, is away in college right now and is obviously, as aforementioned, unavailable."

I sighed and waved my hand dismissively. "'Kay. Fine." I turned to the kid. "You're coming with me."

"Xandri."

I turned back.

Chiron's eyebrows rose. "Civil, remember?"

I rolled my eyes impatiently and stalked out the door, the morose kid trailing behind.

**A/N: Hahaha. Some parts of this particular story are so funny...for some really weird and distorted reason in my really weird and distorted head. It gets worse in the next chapter.**

**So, if you can guess either Xandri's or River's parentage, go ahead and tell me in your review! I'd love to hear all your ideas. (Here's a big hint: Xandri's mom is a minor goddess. River's parent is one of the Twelve Olympians-who are, precisely, Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Hera, Athena, Ares, Aphrodite, Apollo, Artemis, Hephaestus, Dionysus, and Hermes.)**

**Review review review! Purty pleeeeze!**

**~Katrina Mae**


	2. Chapter 2: Stalemate

**A/N: So here's River's POV now. Enjoy!**

Chapter 2: Stalemate

**River**

After being attacked by a starving chimera at school, whipped around by a Fury on the bus, and chased by a dogged hellhound all the way to the very gate of this camp, the girl's surly looks were unsettlingly tame. I'd always been one to give people the benefit of the doubt. Who knew? Maybe she just had family issues, like me.

I cleared my throat after we had been walking-or rather, her stalking, me blundering-through an uncleared patch of grass on the low side of the hill for an uncomfortable time. "Um...Sandra, was it?"

She sighed, as if trying to decide whether to answer me or not. "Xandri," she corrected me grumpily. "And the name's Longblade. Just call me Blade."

"Uh, yeah, sure, um...Xan-Blade."

She turned slightly. "Make sure you get it right. I hate being called Santoku."

"I wasn't planning to. Honest."

She must have muttered something appallingly cynical like "Nobody's honest nowadays" or something along those lines, but I was too exhausted to demand a fight just yet.

Just as her pace quickened, I stumbled after her and grabbed her shoulder. "Hey, wait up!"

She jerked her arm away. "What?"

We both slowed down a bit then. "Um, you said something to Chiron a while ago about being...unclaimed. What's that mean, exactly?"

"Your other parent abandoned you," she explained shortly. Then she turned and jogged briskly down toward the huge arena-like area at the bottom of the hill.

"Hey," I protested. "Hey! Wait just a minute! What kind of explanation is that?"

"None at all," she called back over her shoulder. "Even I didn't get any."

I let a mammoth sigh in one whoosh. "Well, there goes a talking mute."

The girl-whom I had noted long ago had flame decal in her hair-waved me down impatiently. "What are you gawking at? We're late!"

I grumbled unintelligibly under my breath and scrambled embarrassingly down the hill the rest of the way.

"Here. Try these." Xandri shoved a couple of different bows into my hands, some made of light wood and some dark, some smaller and some worthy of being dubbed longbows. I gingerly weeded out the miniature ones and stroked a finely oiled gold-ish one tentatively. I twanged the string: to my untrained ears, it was pretty good.

"Hey, sorry, made a mistake. That one's mine."

I jerked my head up at Xandri's huffing apology-slash-demand. "Sorry." I pushed it into her outreached hands. "That's a really beautiful one."

"That's why I keep it here and not in the Hermes cabin," she replied with some wondrous kind of...friendliness in her voice.

I shot her an inquisitive look.

"Hermes," she huffed, slinging her quiver across her back, "is the god of hospitality, flying shoes, and thievery."

I raised my brows. "Flying shoes?"

Xandri twirled her finger round her temple. "Greek dudes. _Crazy_ Greek dudes."

I actually laughed. "Now there's some sense."

"Yeah, thanks." She rolled her eyes and dumped a random longbow and quiver in my arms unexpectedly. "Come _on_, we hardly have any time left."

Ten minutes later, I was struggling to at least hit the target, much less keep the arrow afloat. I bit my lip till it bled and studiously avoided looking at Xandri-who was biting _her_ lip in amusement.

Abruptly I threw down the bow in the dirt and watched the particles of dust settle around the wood. I crossed my arms defiantly. "I am so not doing this."

Xandri glanced backward at me mid-shot and still managed a casual bull's-eye. "What's the problem?"

If she had said "What's _your_ problem?" I would have punched her right in the face-even if she was a girl. But the thing was, she was just out of reach. And besides, she _hadn't_ said "What's your problem?"

"It's not working," I sighed, and dropped down in the dust on my bum. I tossed down the quiver and buried my head in my hands.

Xandri shrugged. She sent another arrow flying that split the first in two, then wandered over to crouch beside me. "So?"

"So?" I repeated incredulously.

"So?" she said again. "So what? I'm hardly a champion at swordfighting. Experienced and practiced, yes, but not a champion. I'm better at archery and daggers and javelins and all that. Swimming's okay, but I'd rather not. Find your own strength."

"Yeah, easy, I guess," I sighed again. "Maybe I just suck at this stuff."

"So?"

I turned on her with a half-bewildered, half-reproachful look. "You love to say that, don't you?"

"And why not?" she shot back. "Don't freak. Go to your cabin and chill."

"If you say so," I replied. "Hey, how'd you get so good? Does this have something to do with who's your parent?"

"Huh, you're quick," she remarked, as if she had totally expected the opposite. "Yeah, it does. I'm unclaimed, so that means I don't know my mom, my godly parent."

I snorted at the odd expression. "Okay, so can't you figure out who your mom is from what your strengths are?"

"Like karate and ice skating?" she snorted back. "Yeah, what am I? Aphrodite? Athena? Hestia? Artemis?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. I guess I see your point." I gave her a slight suggestion of a smile. "Jack-of-all-trades, are you? I'd like to see you to skate sometime."

She shot me a mock growl. "You are so not going to."

I held up my hands defensively. "Just saying."

She dusted her bow. Then she stood. "C'mon. Lunch at the pavilion."

X~X~X~X~X

Sure, Xandri had said "lunch at the pavilion." But I hadn't expected "deranged-burly-bullies-scraping-your-food-into-a-fire-lunch at the pavilion." If not for Xandri's Gift of Icy Daggers in her eyes, the mud-haired football jockey probably would have burned a third of my food and swallowed the rest.

"May I note that that is not your plate?" spoke Xandri.

Grimacing, the muscled guy flashed his wolfy teeth at her but grudgingly had to hand-or rather toss-my plate back. I barely caught it by the rim.

"Whoa. Thanks," I muttered.

"Whatever," she waved her hand at me. "Ares' kids are bullies. You know, the classic definition: intimidation, working on fear. If the fear isn't there, they _always_ bug off."

"Good to keep that in mind," I replied, and joined her hastily at the least cramped of the three overflowing Hermes tables. "So...do you divide by your parents?"

"Yes," she said, her voice clipped.

"I see." I shrugged-her parentage was obviously a touchy issue, putting it lightly. "Hey...what is _that_ you're eating?"

"Unidentified fizzling mud," she replied casually. "Why?"

"_Why_ do you eat that stuff?" I demanded.

Xandri rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. "Does it really matter what I eat? I have abnormally underdeveloped taste buds. I'd be a waste of time and money if the king hired me as his royal taster."

"Yeah, you'd be like, 'This mud tastes super,' and then fall down dead," I retorted with raised eyebrows.

"Got a question for you," rejoined Xandri.

I narrowed my eyes at her warily. "What?"

"You're a bully magnet, aren't you?"

I opened my mouth in protest. "I'm fifteen years old! C'mon!"

"I mean," Xandri qualified, "corny jokers _do_ get bullied, don't they? That's how I learned to either be smart with my jokes or pull back my hair to kick butt."

"Are you a punk gangster?" I blurted out.

I felt-before I even saw-the blazing light lashing out of her eyes. The seconds ticked by, and still her irises smoldered.

"Are you a hippie?" she shot back.

I sighed. "Stalemate," I muttered.

I could be more than sure that she had heard every bit of my undertoned complaint, but for some recondite reason she actually chose not say any more. Had I really disturbed her that much by my question, or was she simply tired and cross with me?

The latter option seemed to make more sense.

X~X~X~X~X

Hermes' lair, Cabin Eleven. Yuck.

Filthy socks, mismatched shoes, unmade beds, creaking bunks, stinking carpet, and thieving mates. Need I say more? Believe me, I was just a little beginning to understand where Xandri's attitude was coming from. Imagine living in the same cramped corner, guarding your valuables from pickpockets and racing your cabinmates to the bathroom, for seven straight years. At least, that was what Mr. Chiron had told me about Xandri. I had good reason to believe that whatever Chiron had revealed to me about the girl's past, she would never have told me herself. Just thinking of that made me queasy-like I had stolen somebody's bacon from his macaroni behind his back, or learned my best friend's darkest secret from someone else. Or maybe-this was going extreme, but it was the best I could think of-like I had seen the school's biggest bully crying behind the gym alone.

Yes, that was it.

I couldn't quite fathom her. She was rough; "brusque" hardly covered it. But sometimes...she actually exhibited a shred of kindness toward me. She had soft spots that hurt when I prodded them with my rather ill-aimed questions. (I had always had an inimitable gift for tactlessness.)

Gingerly I chose the least brownish spot on the digusting carpet and pulled my sleeping bag over my lap so I wouldn't have to stare at a mucky maroon patch between my legs.

I whistled, then hummed. I seriously wished right now the chimera had chosen a Tuseday to go hungry for grilled human boy so I could have had the chance to bring my guitar with me to school for practice. Well, I would have to deal with that some other time. After Ma got over her panic of my staying with cleaning harpies and juvenile gangsters the rest of the summer, maybe I could call her up and ask her to ship me my guitar and some other things.

It was right in the middle of my best note that Xandri slammed her way into the cabin.

**A/N: I love the part where she says, "I hate being called Santoku." XP**

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3: The Dork Eavesdrops on Me

**A/N: Okay, so the guy Mike here is based on an idiotic dork in real life whom I really hate to mention even now. You can guess the rest.**

**Also, this is Xandri's POV now. (Just saying, so you don't all rip my head off if it gets confusing. I only have one head, you know.)**

Chapter 3: The Dork Eavesdrops on Me

**Xandri**

"Look, Mike," I growled over the phone, "I already told you months ago. It's over. _Over_. Get it, thick head? Now I don't want you to call up here and disturb my camp director _or_ me over your stupid whining, all right?"

"But, Zanadee-" he protested.

"Don't you _dare_ call me Zanadee again!" I yelled. "Do you understand? It's over!"

"Come on, Xandri, whatever happened with Monique was-wasn't true, okay? I never liked her! I liked you, and I still do!"

I snorted. "_You_ come on, Mike Myers. Do you think I have dyslexia so bad that I'm blind? That wasn't true, huh?"

"It was nothing, Xandri!" he urged.

"Nothing?" I repeated. "_Nothing?_ Two kisses and a hug on a date to Friday's was _nothing_?"

"Just listen to yourself-"

"_You_ listen to _your_self!" I flung back. "Accept it, Mike. You're not the one for me. You were always looking at other girls. I was just one of your idle fantasies. But you know what? I'm not going to be a part of your little pretend show! I have eyes, I have ears, and I'm gonna use them when I need to. You can go off now and have a nice little _date_ with your sweet 'nothing'!"

I shut my ears to whatever protest he whined out in response, and angrily flipped Chiron's cell phone shut.

For a long moment I hovered indecisively over the shadow of my sleeping bag on the floor of the Hermes cabin, staring down at the little silver rectangle in my palm. Should I call Dad?

No. He didn't need more of my crying. I had already cried enough to him when I was little. I could handle this. Besides, I had way more than enough to think about...for instance, that new pest on camp who couldn't even-

"Who's there?" I called out sharply.

The rustle I'd heard grew louder and abruptly stopped. I was aware now-and too late-that I was not alone in the cabin.

"Who was that you were yakking at?"

I muffled a growl of irritation. "Not _you_ again."

River's eyes suddenly sparkled in the moonlight. He was standing closer to me than I'd judged from his voice.

River shrugged. "This _is_ my assigned cabin, after all."

"Aren't you supposed to be attending the camp fire?" I shot at him.

"You're not the only one playing hookie," he pointed out.

I held up the small phone for him to see. "Private conversation, okay? _Private_."

"Private yelling," he muttered.

"None of your business," I said loudly.

"It _is_ my business," he rejoined quickly, "because you interrupted my most beautiful nap."

I wanted to pull my hair, pull _his_ hair, pull anybody's hair at that moment. I cocked my head to the side and seriously considered the option: his hair was certainly more than long enough to go through with the idea.

But I didn't. Somehow, I just didn't.

Looking back on that moment, I always tried to rationalize my decision, but never could quite come close enough to the answer. I suppose the simplest way to express it was that I was not the only kid who had problems. Doubtless he had, too, and of course I would never know if they were better or worse than mine, since I'd served him a cold dessert of silent treatment the rest of our dinnertime across the table. And I had conscience enough to know that _I_ had become one of his rarest and most recent problems with the chip on my shoulder.

I just owed it to him, in all fairness.

"That was my bo-my ex," I amended quickly.

I kind of hoped it would all end there, but unfortunately this dork was a different breed of dork. The curious kind.

"Yeah? Did something to you?" he probed.

I rolled my eyes. Somehow I was pretty sure he would see the gesture even in the dark. "His 'something' which he calls 'nothing.' The liar." I paused, groping. "Grah, I can't think of a stronger word."

"You have an...interesting way of expressing yourself," he noted.

"Thanks a lot for that." I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "Er...sorry about...a while ago. I didn't mean to let loose of my temper so easily. It's something I've been trying my best to work on, believe me. Maybe that's why Mike turned his back on me-he wants a shrimp with no spine that he can just kiss and hug whenever he wants to."

"Hey, don't say that," River protested. I was positively amazed at the sincerity in his tone. "You've got personality, I have to give you that. You were right. He's not the one meant for you."

I folded my arms and rolled my eyes again. "Gods, I wish my mom were Nyx so I could see in the dark when somebody's listening in on my most private moments."

"I wasn't trying to," River urged.

I waved my hand dismissively. "Never mind. My fault. And I guess...it kind of helps, after all, to tell somebody about this. My dad doesn't really care so much about this stuff. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's really good to me and all, but he's busy. And he likes to see me handling myself independently when it comes to stuff that I brought upon myself in the first place."

"I should say I can't blame him for that policy," replied River. "My ma, though, is the come-here-and-cry-baby kind of mom. It works fine enough for me, because there just _isn't_ much for me to cry about." He opened his mouth further as if to say something more, but then changed his mind and abruptly closed it again.

"Hm," said I. Then- "Much?"

"There is a _little_, I guess," he shrugged evasively.

"I told you my problem. Your turn now," I declared.

"Do I really have to?"

"Like I said, I told you half my life already," I reminded him.

He sighed. There was a long silence. "How about tomorrow?"

"What difference does it make?" I demanded.

"A lot." He gulped. "I'm not ready to talk about it now."

I looked at him in silence for a long time. Then, at last, I nodded. "Whenever you want to. I'm listening."

For I knew, somehow, that he might not really mean _tomorrow_.

X~X~X~X~X

So we both "played hookie" from the camp fire sing-along schming-along business. At least Chiron only gave us a mild inquiring glance to soften Mr. D.'s moody withering glare. Not that _he_ ought to care, anyway; he was a a terror at music as well as fashion (leopard polo with purple pants, anybody?).

"Hey, you didn't get much sleep last night, did you?" I greeted River when he trudged out of the Hermes cabin just a few seconds after me.

"Neither did you." He slicked back his black shoulder-length hair, which was still glistening and damp from his quick shower.

I shifted uneasily on my feet. "I never do, you know. So last night doesn't count."

River stopped in the middle of fixing his twisted black t-shirt. "Why are you being nice to me?"

I blinked innocently. "Was I ever not?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I don't get you sometimes."

"So you don't 'get' me. But if you don't get ahead and grab your breakfast, you won't have any energy to 'get' your swordfighting lesson from me!"

I actually indulged myself in a slightly-longer-than-a-second laugh and raced him upon mutual agreement to the pavilion. I grabbed my unidentified fizzling mud while he snatched a more sane-looking bagel, and together we jogged down the other side of the hill toward the arena.

"Look, we're already late," I chided him, and swallowed the remaining pint of my mud in one gulp. I tossed the Styrofoam cup into the nearest trash can-my aim was not impressive, but still accurate-and made my way quickly to the stash of available practice weapons displayed on the wooden table at the end.

"Take your pick." I gestured at the assortment of swords, long and short, broad and narrow, silver and rusty.

"Hey," River protested. "Don't I get a wooden sword to practice with? What if I chop your head off or worse?"

"First of all, nothing could be worse than chopping off my head, because then my unknown mom would descend from high Olympus and avenge my death," I informed him. "Secondly, no, you don't get a wooden sword-and that's because thirdly, Chiron chose me as your junior trainer for a reason. I've been here for seven years, just like Annabeth Chase when she became the unanimously agreed champion of fighting."

"Annabeth Chase?" River repeated.

"A daughter of Athena," I clarified. "She's a junior in college now, and has internships and all that nuisance, which explains why she's not here this summer and why she's old enough to be engaged to Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon."

"Pretty heavy parentage," he remarked. "Like, technically, the Percy guy is her uncle. Or rather, she's his first cousin removed."

I rolled my eyes impatiently. "Genes and DNA and stuff don't work like that with the Big Greek Dudes," I said. "In fact, they're non-existent."

"Wait, then how do their distinctive traits get passed on to us?"

"Ever heard of magic, kiddo?"

"I have a name," River informed me.

"So do I," I rejoined. "Now have you picked a sword, or do you want me to pick it for you?"

Grudgingly, he let go the bantering and focused wholly on trying out the swords. Thank Olympus, at least he was smart enough not to use the _small_ ones. Then my fear would be different-I might kill him off too soon with my long blade.

"I guess this will have to do," he spoke up at last. He sounded far from satisfied, but it had already been twenty minutes, and my palms were getting itchy and hot under my heavy black fingerless gauntlets.

"I'll try to find you something better when we're done," I promised him gruffly.

He shrugged, then sauntered over to where I was waiting, tapping the tip of my already drawn sword in the sand. His eyes widened. "How long is your sword?"

"Approximately two feet," I replied. "There's a reason my mom picked a man with the surname Longblade, you know."

"Are you Native American?" he blurted.

I sighed. "Obviously enough."

"Just clarifying," he said defensively. "You know, you _do_ have orange in your hair, which makes it hard to see that it's really black. And your eyes are more gold than dark brown."

I stopped myself in the middle of opening my mouth. He was right. Sure enough, I was tan and had black hair and possessed a defined nose, but my eyes were far from normal.

I cleared my throat quickly to cover the moment. "You're standing wrong. Your quickest and most useful muscles must always be poised to receive pressure and exert pressure."

"Wow, you have a gift for intellectualizing things," River commented.

X~X~X~X~X

Forty minutes later, I shamefacedly admit that I was seriously almost _struggling_ to keep up with River. The kid was a natural.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop!" I called out as soon as I had caught his blow by the tip of his blade. If not for my overactive reflexes and gift of distracting people, he may very well have indeed "chopped off my head or worse."

I turned his attention to his errors to avoid showing how shaken I really was. "Your stance was incorrect back there. You could take an inexperienced opponent completely by surprise, but I'm obviously not inexperienced, and you'll be battling hyperactive demigods and freaky monsters, so I was able to step back and at the same time rescue your blow from nicking my neck."

"I told you I needed a wooden sword," he mumbled.

"None of that," I scolded. "I want you to focus on where you made a mistake. In your stance, if I had had a little more energy, I could have not only blocked your blow, but also stepped to the side and _forward_ again to completely skewer you in the side. Then you'd be a delicious barbecued treat for tonight's camp fire schming-along."

"Schming-along?" he muttered.

I shot him a look. "Concentrate."

"Okay. Sorry."

We tried the move again, and this time I was much more cautious enough to block his blow more securely. But I was satisfied with his swift improvement in his body position.

"Good work," I commended him. "Now you can go wash up and go to the lake and dive or whatnot. We're done for the morning, and there's still an hour or so until lunch hour is called. You don't have to attend archery, since we already saw your sample work on that one."

River nodded and turned to go, then hesitated. "What about you?"

"I'm going to hunt up the sword I promised you," I reminded him with raised eyebrows.

"Oh."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." He looked away again. "I don't need the sword right away."

I snorted. "You kidding me? You've got a gift at this. Imagine what terror you could do with a properly balanced sword."

"Yeah, but..." He sighed and tried again. "I think I'm ready."

My sharp gaze at him abruptly softened. "Really?" I found myself, almost dreamlike, already sheathing my sword and pulling off my helmet in haste. Well, the kid needed his chance. I _had_, after all, pressured him to tell me his woes. It was hardly fair to keep him waiting, now that he was ready, and we equally had nothing to do the rest of the morning, anyway.

"Then we'll both go down to the lake," I decided aloud. "There's a dock there hidden behind some trees. I'm the only one, as far as I can tell, who knows about it." I paused and indicated the blade still trailing from his hand. "You can keep that one for now, if you want."

"Yeah, sure, thanks," he replied easily. He ducked away to retrieve the brittle leather sheath for his sword and strapped it round his broad, muscular waist.

"Do you go to the gym?" I blurted out suddenly. It was too late-all I could do was slap myself over and over in my head.

"No, I don't...?" He raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"Nothing," I swallowed. "Just wondering. You're too fit for your age. It's abnormal."

"Oh, _that_," he chuckled.

"Yes, _that_."

"That's part of what I'm going to tell you." He motioned with his head.

"Sorry."

"'Hyperactive demigod', anyone?"

I had to laugh.

**A/N: Reviews, please!**


	4. Chapter 4: Of Kabooms and DNTs

**A/N: Hahahahaha *laughs breathlessly* I have absolutely NO idea **_**whatsoever**_** why I find this chapter funny. Maybe the DNT (Detestable Necklace Thingy) part. ;P**

**River's POV, by the way.**

Chapter 4: Of Ka-Booms and Detestable Necklace Thingies

**River**

Xandri's swift mood swings made my neck stiff. One minute she was nearly yelling at me to focus on my blade, and the next thing she was chatting _nicely_ with me in a much softer tone. She was actually looking and sounding like a girl.

(I have to say that I punched myself in the gut twenty-something times after I thought that to myself.)

Presently, we were lounging about on the creaky little dock that was whitewashed by time and water. True enough, we were both concealed conveniently by the trees bowing into the lake from the weight of their branches. On the upside, it was the perfect hideout. On the downside, no one would either see or hear me when Xandri assassinated me.

"My family is...let's say, complicated," I began as my introduction, which really hardly did anything for my planned confessions to this gruff female stranger.

Xandri pursed her lips and tossed a good-sized pebble onto the lake, where it bounced six or seven times before sinking obsequiously below the surface. "Complicated? We're in the same boat. I'm all ears."

"All ears and glares," I muttered under my breath, and continued more loudly, "My ma still lives with us-um, I mean, with me and my older sister and my younger brother. But she married again after me."

"How are you enjoying the middle child syndrome?" Xandri interjected wryly.

I shrugged. "My ma likes me a lot, so that's no problem. It's the step issue."

"'The step issue'," she repeated. "Hm." She cocked her head to the side, then shook it in finality. "Don't get it. Go on."

"See," I struggled on, "Ma had my older sister Megan with this guy. Then they got divorced pretty early, and she found this other guy-who's my dad, and now obviously a god-and they got married and had me. But then he left and all that, so the marriage was legally dissolved on grounds of abandonment or whatnot, and Megan's dad came back. He seemed nice enough, and Ma had always had feelings for him, so she took him back. They got married again and had my annoying little bro Diego."

"Ah." Xandri pulled her head back and regarded me with an interesting new light in her amber eyes. "I think I kind of see what you mean. So your stepdad is mean to you?"

I shifted uncomfortably and found I had an amazingly hard time opening my mouth. I sighed and tossed a smooth whitish rock into the lake, watching its angry ripples spread out tensely on the disturbed surface of the water. Finally I mustered the courage to resume again. "I guess 'mean' doesn't quite cover it. My mom's story involves another man other than Megan and Diego's dad, and I'm a testament to that."

"Immature little guy," Xandri remarked scathingly.

I laughed uneasily. "He's not little."

"That was an expression."

"Just saying."

Xandri leaned forward again in the dim shadow that the elm leaves cast over my face and studied me more closely. "You still seem...very disturbed."

I snorted. "Why am I reminded of my school psychiatrist?"

"Because." She sighed impatiently. "You're not finished yet. Keep going."

"Honestly, I can't believe why I had to choose _you_ of all people to make my confession to."

"Your fault. You were the first to eavesdrop on me," she pointed out.

"Yeah." I bit my lip and looked away quickly. "He's mean to me."

There was a long, stiff silence. Then- "What does your mom look like?"

Grudgingly I moved to dig into the back pocket of my jeans and handed Xandri the small wallet-sized photo of Ma. It was still clean and shiny and wrinkle-free-I always kept it that way.

"Wow," breathed Xandri. "She's beautiful."

"Like I could say no to that," I chuckled. I glanced over her shoulder at the picture myself; I never tired of seeing it. "She's from Madrid, Spain. That's why she has the dark brown hair and whitish skin."

Xandri looked up at my face quickly. "You're very tan. I say, even darker than I am. And that's saying a lot, kiddo." She held her wrist up against mine to prove her point.

I shrugged. "Obviously my dad's magic 'genes' were stronger than hers."

"Is that where you got your black hair from?"

I nodded. "Actually, I have a picture of him here." I dug into the same pocket again and produced another small photo-this one slightly more rumpled than the first-that portrayed Ma, in a splendid crimson flamenco dress, standing wide-eyed beside my towering father.

Xandri snorted. "You look _exactly_ like your dad."

"Do not!" I snatched the photo from her hand, but she grabbed it back and held it away into the light just beyond my reach. She traced the features of my dad's miniaturized face. "Yeah, he's tan all right, and _very_ buff like you" -I rolled my eyes at her- "and he's got your long black hair. And your eyes."

I opened my mouth, only to find her fist hovering threateningly in my face. "And don't you deny it, either," she warned me.

"He's got _stubble_," I protested desperately.

"Which is all you lack," she rejoined unconcernedly. "A couple of years and you'll be a carbon copy of him."

"And the freaking heck I don't _want_ to!" I shouted.

Xandri jumped.

I ripped the photo out of her hand and shoved it deep into the darkest corners of my pocket. I got to my feet so quickly that the movement both looked and felt jerky. I wasted no more time and leaped down from the dock into the depression of moist grass and raced for the trees.

"Hey, River! Wait!"

I grimaced as I blundered blindly through the thorns and at last managed to tear through the thick forest and back into the open air of the camp. In my disconcerted state, I hardly recognized this side of camp-and, come to think of it, I hardly did visit this side anyway. Obviously I'd taken a rather painful and muddy shortcut to an unfamiliar area. But pretty soon I sighted the arena not too far away, so that was a landmark to start with.

It was as I was trudging toward the gentle slope of hill, arms crossed and head lowered, that I realized Xandri had called me by my name for the very first time.

X~X~X~X~X

I skipped the javelins and spears class. I also skipped the canoeing and the pegasi. And, of course, I steered clear of the bonfire, lest I become Xandri's threatened delicious barbecue delight for the camp fire schming-along.

She had a way with words.

My thoughts wouldn't settle. I juggled the rusty sheathed sword back and forth in my hands, playing with the sturdy black leather strap, and attempted to draw it from the scabbard in a smooth, sweeping movement. But I was a junior at this, so let it suffice to say that the results were less than impressive.

My gaze out the window of the Hermes cabin wandered across the other eleven houses where demigods resided-or at least, in most of them. The Big Three-Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades-remained unoccupied throughout each year, as Chiron had told me, except when Thalia Grace of the Artemis Hunters, or Percy Jackson and Nico diAngelo for that matter, returned periodically.

I sighed and let the sword swing back down to my side from my belt. Thrusting my hands in my pockets, I found the photos of Ma and Dad. My real dad. I wondered how I would feel if I discovered one day that my dad had been a great ancient Greek power all along-if he had been Zeus, or Poseidon, or Hades. The problem was, I hardly knew myself yet. What was I good at? What strength set me apart? What power did I possess? I honestly couldn't imagine summoning skeletons, or breathing underwater, or inciting thunderstorms for fun. And that, simply put, was exactly how my thoughts came meandering back to...you guessed it.

Xandri Longblade.

She was unclaimed, too. Of course, she _seemed_ plenty angry about it, but then again, she had a concatenation of other known and unknown..."issues" to deal with. But then so did I.

I pounded myself for letting my very first serious talk with her going _KA-BOOM_. My temper was a problem...as well as with her. We both had family problems-and, though I hadn't told her yet out of pure mortification, even relationship problems. The similarities were becoming uncanny.

_Knock-knock_!

It took probably another good dozen knocks before I finally shook my head clear, roused myself, and went to yank the door open. Standing before me in the distantly firelit gloom was a burly kid.

"Hey," he said, his deep voice bouncing off my forehead. He glanced behind me curiously. "No one else back yet from the camp fire?"

I shrugged. "Maybe they're late tonight. I'm guessing you didn't go, either."

The impossibly tall kid flashed me a friendly, toothy grin. He was dark, maybe mulatto or Hispanic, with wavy dark hair falling unshorn past his ears. And-believe it or not-he was still partially dressed in his armor.

"Nah," he replied easily. "Listen, Xandri Longblade lives in this cabin, right?"

What was with that name?

I gulped. "Yeah. Sure. Why?"

"Could you hand this to her for me? Just tell her I couldn't afford to stay and wait for her because I had to get back to my cabin early. Starting a quest tomorrow and all."

He reached behind him and seemed to pluck right out of the shadows a gold chain with something hanging from it.

I found my throat dry. I took it. "'Kay," I barely managed in a hoarse voice. I shoved the detestable necklace thingy deep into my most hidden pocket.

"So," I said quickly, having recovered my voice, "having a quest tomorrow?"

The kid grinned enthusiastically. "Yeah! The first of my entire life! Oh, gods, I can't wait." He stopped abruptly. "Hey, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Enrique de la Torre." He stuck out his hand.

I took it as I would take a bone from a Doberman pinscher's mouth.

"Uh, River Mercado," I found myself blurting out. "Quién es tu padre o madre olimpiano?"

Enrique burst out laughing. "Hablas español! Well, my dad is Hephaestus. I live right across your cabin, in there." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

I eyed the fierily painted cabin with renewed interest. "God of fire and metalworking and...muscles?"

Enrique shrugged modestly.

I had a sudden idea. "Do you have a minute before you go to bed or something?"

"Yeah, any time. Why?"

I lugged my long sword into view. "I got this from the arena. Xa-I mean, my instructor promised to hunt up a better one for me, but I really like this one. Do you think it would be too hard to fix this one up just right? I mean, er, she _did_ say I could keep it as long as I like."

"Sure, sure," he said patronizingly. "What's the problem? Handle too long? Blade too wide?"

"You're the master," I murmured, and drew it out for him to see how it weighed in my hand.

"Aha!" cried Enrique, in one of those Einsteinian "eureka" moments. I mean, if he _had_ said "eureka," I guess that would be ten times less silly than Einstein saying it, with half-bloods being half-Greek and all.

"The blade's too narrow, actually," Enrique rushed on excitedly. "C'mon, I can fix it up for you in just a sec."

"Ves algo y no veo nada," I muttered grudgingly. I wished I could see something that others honestly...couldn't.

X~X~X~X~X

The Hephaestus cabin was a sweatshop of macho, good-looking underage blacksmiths. Enrique's own corner was decent-actually, not too bad. He had his own miniature folding anvil-a metalworking wonder he proudly claimed as his own invention-and an array of official-looking tools lining his two walls tidily. He seemed to know exactly which one to pluck out of the dim fireglow in the cabin and set right to work, whistling cheerily.

Surreptitiously, I pulled out the Detestable Necklace Thingy out of my pocket and examined it. It was finely crafted-the chain, that is. It was a sturdy, slim gold chain with twisted links that swayed back and forth and caught the light in a soporific pattern. The pendant itself, surprisingly, seemed old and worn, though caringly polished. It was a bright yellow gold tassel-y concoction, with an elegant script _X_ at the top holding the bar from which the dainty tassels hung.

I could hardly imagine "Blade" wearing this.

Xandri, maybe.

"Hey," Enrique's boom interrupted my reverie.

I jammed the DNT back into my pocket and jerked my hand out quickly, getting my fingers almost lacerated when they caught in the twisted gold. I winced in the dark.

"I want you to try something," said Enrique, suspecting nothing at all. "Come on over here. Yeah, like that. Here, take the hammer."

"You want me to _smith_?" I repeated incredibly.

"You got a way with words, but that's basically it," Enrique grinned back mischievously.

_Way with words_. Huh. Just like someone I knew.

"This is the only weapon of dignity I possess," I pointed out. "What if I ruin it?"

Enrique shrugged. "We'll see about that. I'm good at _fixing_ people's botches, too."

I rolled my eyes but accepted the hammer. Tentatively I struck the red-hot blade, which my newfound companion held securely in his mammoth grip by the hilt.

The sound boomed and hissed like the sea inside a shell. It struck something in me: I knew I had hit exactly the right place.

Stronger grew my strokes. I tapped and pounded, cajoled and coerced the metal exactly when I needed to. The iron screeched and then bellow as it submitted to the hammer.

In the darkness, my eyes were blinded as the livid steel melted and reformed again into the shape I wanted.

**A/N: Ohhh here's the big hint now for any of you who didn't guess River's parent right! *rubs hands gleefully***

**Also, so you don't have an extra reason to rip my head off, there **_**will**_** be a quest in the **_**very next chapter**_**, so SIT TIGHT AND WAIT!**

**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5: Two Dorks and Pinch of Moron

**A/N: Aaaaand I'm baaack! Okay, no reviews? People, seriously, if you want me to continue this story I'm gonna need some reviews here! Anything-just a "like it" or "update soon" or even "it sucks major." Just some sort of feedback would be very much appreciated. *puts on puppy face* =)**

**So anyway, here's the quest I was promising you from the last chapter. It actually started out **_**with**_** the quest right away, but then I realized I had a gap, so I tacked on the whole first section to this chappie to get Xandri and River conveniently claimed. So no more guessing games...you'll see soon enough their true parentage. *mock face of rue* Sorry if this chapter is kind of long. Truthfully, this is how I **_**really**_** write in **_**real**_** life. XD**

**Again, Xandri's POV. (Just a note-Xandri looks somewhat like my sister and has some of her personality, but she's still based somewhat on my own experiences.)**

Chapter 5: Two Pinches of Dork and a Drop of Moron

**Xandri**

The bare and mortifying truth was, I hadn't gone to the detestable camp fire schming-along at all. I had gone down to the dock again, to listen to the rustling leaves, feel the cool breeze, dip my toes in the water, reminisce warm memories with my father-

Ugh.

What a stupid lie.

Actually, the _whole_ truth was that I hadn't left the dock at all. Even when I felt an irritating twinge of hunger, I simply glared it down and stayed glued to my seat until it was verily past midnight. Slightly more than half a day by myself in exactly the same position. And that's saying a lot for an angry kid who happens to be a hyperactive demigod and possesses a frenemy lacking a screw in his brain.

I guess I botched the whole thing. Again. As usual, the paragon of etiquette, I _so_ attracted friends to me. (If you're not familiar yet with the important concept of Sarcasm, just listen in a bit on an American couple during one of their private "discussions" and you'll get a pretty good idea of it.)

The next day, River cast me a strange and rather loony look at the pavilion. Hastily I wheeled on my heel and jogged in the other direction. I avoided him in the arena, with some veritable success. But my heart sank when I saw the calendar: today was Friday. As in time to play Capture the Flag.

I was technically part of the Hermes cabin, so as usual, as had been happening for the last eighty-four weeks of my life spent at camp, I was squished together in the losing team. And of _course_ our opponents had to be the Apollo, Ares, and Demeter cabins.

On the upside, we had Athena's kids with us.

Then again, the Aphrodites were beautiful blockheads.

We started the game pretty much as we always did-with fanfare and loud thumpings of running feet. This was no new game to me, and I hardly had the heart for it now. But life could be worse, right? And in three seconds, it was. Who else but River should show up right behind me, stumbling and panting for all he was worth.

"Shut _up_," I hissed. "Do you want to be a hero or a jerk on your first game?"

"What, is this is a gauntlet or something?" he retorted.

"Yes. So shut it."

For some reason, he actually obeyed, and simply crept up closer till he was right by my elbow. I considered the temptation to jab him in the jaw, then quickly decided against it. Most likely he'd yell like a sissy.

"What are you planning?" he whispered.

I didn't answer for a moment. Slowly, softly, I trod closer up to the edge of the screen of trees. I prayed that it wouldn't be a Demeter kid guarding the flag on the other side of the creek-her kids could always tell when someone was rustling the leaves.

I peeped through. Wow. Suck luck-it was Castor, Mr. D.'s kid.

I sighed, and the sound whistled through my clenched teeth. "Ambush," I said curtly.

"There's only one," he urged.

I had to grab the back of his purple t-shirt and drag him back behind the screen. "Don't be fooled!" I snapped. "There's bound to be at _least_ two more somewhere. Listen..." I sighed again, loathing just the idea of having to trust River. "How fast can you run?"

"Er-not very. The chimera caught up with me last time."

I sighed a third time, this time out of exasperation. "Fine. Now there goes my beautiful plan, right into the trash can."

"What was it?"

"I was going to aim at his neck with my tranquilizing shafts, and shoot at the other guards as well-if they're hidden, most likely they're archers. I was going to cover for you while you ran and grabbed the flag." I grimaced. "But that's not possible."

River seemed to honestly consider the possibility; then, ruefully, he shook his head.

"Can _you_ think of something better?" I shot at him. "We're kind of on an urgent mission here."

"Uh..." His tanned brow furrowed. "Maybe _you_ could run and get the flag. I mean, I'll start out as a decoy. Real casual."

My eyes widened dubiously. "Are you crazy?"

"Hey. I'm not always wrong."

"Maybe you're wrong there," I muttered.

But before I could grab the back of his t-shirt again, or even hiss at him to get back, he was already gone. In his seat was the blue-haired helmet he'd been wearing just a moment before.

Could it be-?

"Hey, bro," River greeted Castor cheerily.

Castor eyed him warily and did not move. I could see his wrist clench on his spear. "Who are you?"

"Ares," proffered River affably. "Just got claimed and all."

"Oh." Castor visibly relaxed. Obviously he didn't know all the morons in camp-or else he was one. "Hey, where's your helmet?"

River chuckled easily. "Lost it in a skirmish with that girl-what's-her-name-the one with orange hair. I think she was with Hermes or something."

Now Castor joined his careless laughter. "Yeah. Don't ever get tied up with her. You're lucky you got away with your _head_, kid."

River grinned back appreciatively.

"Uh...could you stand here for a minute? I have to take a break..."

River pretended marvellously to look surprised and worried. "I don't want you to get in trouble, man."

"No, it's okay. Just don't say anything, and I won't either, okay?" said Castor with a wink, and ducked out of sight.

Then, just like that, Demetri the son of Apollo poked his head out of a bush. "Where'd Castor go?"

"Break," said River shortly. He faced forward and locked eyes with me.

Quick as thought, I notched a shaft and let it fly straight at Demetri's neck. His eyes widened. He grunted a little and then fell forward with a soft thud.

"Ambush!" yelled another shrill voice-Demetri's half-sister Kimberly. I nocked another arrow and aimed straight and true at her neck. She slumped to the ground on top of Demetri.

"I think we got all of 'em," River marveled, his hand already encircling the pole of the flaming red flag. I dashed out of the underbrush to his side, just in case there were other archers about to fire.

River grinned lopsidedly at me. "It's your honor."

Gaping at him, I accepted the flag. Then I hoisted it, still in a daze, and together we shouted at the top of our lungs: "HERMES!"

They all came to us at once in a thundering and clattering and crashing. First came Aquilah, green eyes wide in excitement and caramel hair in wild disarray. Her already wide eyes widened even more when she saw the flag being held up and waved about in my hand and River's.

The entire Hermes cabin, along with the Aphrodite kids chewing bubblegum and some bespectacled Athena offspring, gather swiftly around us. I caught sight of Castor's face just as he emerged from the forest again, turning a bright berry red as he took the situation in.

"You great liar," I mumbled bashfully to River.

He chortled. "Maybe I am a son of Hermes after all."

Just then Chiron came cantering up to us, deep eyes assessing the sudden victory. He glanced about cursorily. "Was there no battle?"

"There were three guards-Castor, Demetri, and Kimberly," I explained hastily. "River here tricked Castor out, and I put Dem and Kim to sleep." I indicated the siblings sprawled humiliatingly on the edge of the creek.

Chiron lifted his eyebrows, thoroughly impressed by our victory and the opponents' stupidity. "Good work, Xandri, and good thinking, River."

River pretended not to glow with pride, but I could just see his aura of self-importance. "Pompous fool," I muttered under my breath.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

Then Chiron lifted his arms. "Three cheers for the Hermes cabin! Young demigods, we must celebrate. This is the first Hermes victory in seventeen ye-" He stopped.

I glanced quickly about. "What? What?"

Aquilah pointed. "Th-the s-symbol-"

I finally grasped the idea and looked up. Hovering directly above my head was a logo of light, the shape of a blazing orange sword with a swoosh of fire.

Then I saw the reason for the complete silence.

Above River's head was another symbol-a fiery hammer and anvil.

Chiron's arms fell slowly to his sides. It was long after the signs had faded away that he finally spoke. "An unusual time to be claimed," he mused aloud. "But then again, Percy Jackson was claimed under similar cricumstances." He cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Campers, welcome Xandri Longblade, daughter of Nike, and River Mercado, son of Hephaestus."

X~X~X~X~X

Like I always did when I was in shock, I wandered down to the dock without knowing precisely what I was doing there. I had some vague idea that maybe River would come and find me and talk to me, and I could apologize for aggravating him the other day-but it was only an idle thought. I stood there for some time, still as a statue, and gazed out endlessly at the unbroken surface of the water. Then I shifted to a crouch; an hour later, I leaned back against the nearest post. Five minutes afterwards, I was snoring.

I woke with a start and almost cursed when I saw the shiny sun beating down on me from high up in the sky.

Now it was way past breakfast time, and for the first time in my entire accursed fourteen-year life span, I was running late. And now, let's all have the story of my worst luck ever: I ran into...Chiron.

"Xandri!" he greeted me in surprise. (Don't tell the old man, 'cuz I really do pity him, but the next tenth time he calls me Xandri, I'm afraid he won't have a pretty tail to swish anymore.) "I was surprised not to see you at breakfast this morning."

I crossed my arms and shivered in the uncharacteristically biting wind of this July morning. "I slept late." A shrug, maybe, and he would go away. Maybe throw in a wide yawn or two for good measure.

"I'm actually quite pleased to have run into you accidentally," continued Chiron. "I have decided-after much consideration, and despite numerous several instances which might prove my decision imprudent-to grant your request."

I stared.

My mouth dropped.

"On a _quest_?" I managed to squeak out at last.

Chiron raised his brows judgingly and nodded. "Yes, for you _have_ been claimed after all. You shall go on a quest. And it is not a petty one, either-I expect you will not treat it as one. Quests are not given lightly, nor to amateurs. Show me that I have not overestimated you."

I blinked.

And couldn't say anything.

Chiron apparently took my flabbergasted gaze for an expectant look. He waved his hand dismissively. "You will be leaving with Enrique de la Torre this morning. Pack your weapons and other belongings, and meet him down at the foot of the hill. Argus will already be waiting for you. He'll explain everything you need to know."

"But what abou-"

But the old horse-man was already kicking up a dust in my face and galloping madly down toward the arena, as if he were just about to miss the best right hook in an international boxing match. I guessed something similar was going on down there...or else, maybe one of the newer demigods had gotten a minor injury during practice.

I sighed, turned, and tripped my way moodily back to the Hermes cabin.

I honestly didn't have a lot of stuff. I grabbed my ratty black and red Spyder backpack from underneath my sleeping bag (the only way to protect valuables was to lie on top of them)-I still hadn't been moved from the Hermes cabin yet-threw a bunch of identical orange CHB tees in, stuffed some toiletries and spare jeans in as well, and zipped it with a ferocity that would outdo Zeus's thunderbolts. After considering for a moment, I added my spare dagger to the one already sheathed across my chest along the strap of my bow and quiver. My two daggers were completely different-one, my preferred, was curved like a scimitar and glinted with regularly polished celestial bronze; the other was a slightly longer and much more wicked-looking squiggly grey one of heavy, menacing Stygian iron. I also had some pretty useful finger-sized homemade explosives strapped like bullets around my hips. Last year I had received an anonymous gift-presumably from my mother, whom I now knew was the goddes of _victory_-for Christmas, and it had been a small tube of explosive toothpaste which never ran out. This I thrust into one of the more convenient side pockets of my black cargo pants. Now, fully equipped and sprinting full tilt down the hill, I was a walking armory.

Enrique's handsomeness annoyed me to no end. Now, as I came tumbling in a fury down the hill, he turned with the ease of a goon and grinned at me a heartthrob model's grin. I always thought that maybe Aphrodite was his real parent and not Hephaestus. (I mean, weren't Hephaestus's kids supposed to be ugly just like him?)

"Hey, Xandri," he greeted me with overdone surprise in his tone. "I didn't know Chiron was letting you come along."

"The name's Blade, flathead," I spat, "and Chiron _told_ me to come along. If I had a choice, I'd be out of here this minute."

Enrique shook his head, chuckling. "Well, I'm guessing we'll need a fiery spirit to keep the adventure coming along."

I stood erect to my fullest so that I stood nearly eye to eye with him. "You're so full of it, de la Torre! You want to know something, Mr. Hammerhead?"

He just grinned back, probably thinking, _Well, that's a new one_.

My voice sank to a deadly whisper. "Millions of demigods have died on quests just like this before." I paused, watching the shock finally filter through his face. "Think on that. _Millions_. In case you've forgotten, Percy Jackson barely escaped with his life like a cat with nine lives. So quit the smirking and get down to serious business, for once in your life."

Enrique considered this for a long moment; I could definitely tell he was struck. Finally he said, with obvious casualness, "So what do you have against me?"

At that moment, the many-eyed Mr. Argus pulled up in a shiny white minivan, honking at us to get in. With his extreme peripheral vision, no doubt he had caught sight of me standing on tiptoe and glaring up at the feared oldest son of Hephaestus.

I gave him a death stare, whirled, and opened the door of the van with enough force to rock Olympus. I tossed my stuff in and settled down in the farthest corner of the seat I could manage. Still smiling moronically, Enrique got in after me at a more dignified pace.

"So," he spoke up as we rolled along down Long Island, "you didn't answer my question."

"Go pick on somebody dumber to flirt with, okay?" I privileged him with an actual look in the eye-albeit a warning one-and sighed, turning away again. "There's Pearl Curtis, daughter of Aphrodite. I reckon she's as good as any to start with. No brains, lots of good looks. Your type. It's a no-brainer."

Enrique managed to cast me a mildly reproachful look, but otherwise remained silent. I knew then I had won the argument.

He cleared his throat like an idiot a couple of times. Then he spoke up, "So, I don't think Chiron told you _why_ we're on this quest, huh?"

I rolled my head in his direction and cast him a withering look of I-couldn't-care-less.

He shrugged uneasily and tried his best to continue as if I had done nothing at all. "So, you see, Zac and Wynter Heyerdahl heard this really amazing prophecy from the Oracle Rachel way back three years ago, and they thought it was about them, but it turns out it wasn't, and actually it wa-"

"Hooold on right there!" I snapped. "Could you at least give me the one _H_ and five _W_'s?"

He stared blankly at me. "Huh?"

"Who, what, where, when, why, and how," spoke another voice. And whose voice else should it be except...

You guessed it.

My head whipped forward. "_What_, exactly, are you _doing_ here?"

River peeped round the head of the passenger seat almost apologetically at me-but only almost. "Chiron let me take the ride along with you so I could go pick up some...er..._essential_ stuff at home."

I narrowed my eyes in paranoia. "You live on Long Island?"

"Uh...well...no, not exactly. I live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan."

_Bam_. Just like that, my eyes flipped open. Wide open. "Do you mean to say you live right in the neighborhood of Percy Jackson?" I demanded.

"Er..." he said intelligently.

I snapped my fingers impatiently. "Son of Poseidon. Annabeth Chase."

"I guess so...?"

"Hey," Enrique's booming voice cut in. "Good to see you, man. You, uh, gave Xandri the thing?"

I shot him a glare. "_Blade_. And I'm _right here_."

River glanced meaningfully at me. "No. Um, you weren't in the Hermes cabin the last two nights, and then we got claimed and I was separated, Blade..."

"I was trying my hand at an easy suicide via harpies."

Enrique cast me a doleful you're-so-out-of-it look.

"...so here," River finished, and dug out something from his pocket and handed it unceremoniously to me. Was I only imagining it, or did I catch a grimace of disgust on his face?

I took the thing in puzzlement. It was a bright gold necklace with a fine twisted chain and hanging pendant-oh. My broken necklace.

"Thanks for fixing it," I muttered grudgingly to Enrique.

He shrugged. "No prob."

I slid him a curious glare. "How did you know about it?"

"Aquilah."

"Aquilah, Aquilah," I sighed, shaking my head. "Aquilah the Hun she is."

River chuckled in an undertone.

"So I was saying," Enrique continued blithely, probably already deluded into thinking I was committed to a lifetime of servitude to him just for fixing a stupid broken necklace. "Zac and his wife Wynter-he's a son of Apollo and she's a daughter of Hecate-heard this prophecy from Rachel three years ago, the last time they ever came back to camp from a quest. Actually, it was a personal quest, for healing, because Wynter went blind-er, long story. So anyway, it said something about a bunch of demigods going on a quest..."

"I'm a person of exactness," I stated matter-of-factly.

"Okay, okay!" He squinted briefly before reciting:

_Loose spirit wanders across the earth_

_ In child's body not of birth._

_ For vengeance's swift death be won,_

_ Victor's daughter, forge's sons_

_ Shall aid the daughter of blue fire_

_ And each will pass a test of ire._

Enrique leaned back then on a note of triumph.

"Sorry if I'm being a wet blanket," I remarked somewhat sarcastically, "but it said more than two half-bloods are going. I'm one. Who are the others?"

"Not counting me," said Enrique slowly, "River is the other one."

My jaw dropped. I turned to demand from River _why_ he hadn't even told me straightforward right away that he was even _on_ the quest. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to, because just then Argus let out an unearthly yell. I mean, he is unearthly by himself, but you should hear him scream one of these days.

Quickly I poked my nose to the glass of the window, investigating. I fingered my belt of explosives-and then screamed.

Right against my face, pressed against the window, was the grinning, ugly bull head of a raging Minotaur.

**A/N: Muwahahaha. Sorry if I'm rehashing anything, but then again, Mr. Riordan already used all the monsters there are in the Greek world. And I already used Kakos the fire demon in my other fanfic **_**Blood Ice**_**. Speaking of which, if you're one of my long-time fans, you might have recognized the names Zac and Wynter up there. **_**Yes**_**, they got married...but that's at the end of **_**Golden Rivers**_**, which I'm still in the process of finishing at this moment. Just so you know, Zac is nineteen and Wynter eighteen at the setting of this story. Also, this whole story about Xandri is a cross between her story and the story of Wynter which will come up in the next book after **_**Golden Rivers**_**. (Yes, I have it all planned out.) And if you're confused, let's just say this story is Xandri's point of view of the quest, and my potential sequel to **_**Golden Rivers**_** will be Wynter's point of view of the same quest.**

**If anything else confuses you, just PLEASE send me a PM. I'll be more than happy to answer your questions. Otherwise, just SIT TIGHT AND WAIT!**

**REVIEWS RULE!**

**Cheers, ~Katrina Mae**


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